


My Ficlets

by Rose_Rassmusen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Implied Relationships, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Whippings, whip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Rassmusen/pseuds/Rose_Rassmusen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets starting with Sherlock's punishment as a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Ficlets

**Author's Note:**

> This will be continuing. If you'd like to point out errors, or would like to beta my future works, feel free to ask.

He lays on the bed, spread out just how his master likes him. He whimpers as the unforgiving leather leaves red stripes on his skin, painting his pale skin like a canvas. A husky voice calls from the shadows. It asks him why he is being punished. The boy sobs out and answer and the voice is not pleased. A crack fills the room as a thin strip of leather cuts through the air to add another stripe to the pale boy’s skin. His dark curls are wet with perspiration and you can hear his labored breathing as he holds back a whimper. He’s not allowed to make a sound than to answer his master. Five more flicks of his master’s wrist and a scream ripped through the air, followed by seemingly endless pleas for forgiveness. The voice from before barks orders and disappears for a moment, returning in a few seconds and securing a ball gag in his slave’s mouth. He cannot be trusted to keep quiet unassisted. For this, the punishment is being extended an extra ten lashes. The whip is loud enough as it is, they cannot afford to be caught, at least, the master cannot. He cannot let his spotless reputation be stained by an unstable little boy who can’t keep quiet and doesn't understand why he’s being punished.   
After the punishment is over, there is no coddling. The slave’s hands are unbound and he is left to take care of himself. A finger flicked in the direction of the bathroom is all he gets and his master quickly gathers up the ropes which bound the pale, gaunt, boy, the gag which kept him quiet, and the whip, which gave him a reason to cry. The boy carefully cleans the salty tears off his face and applies ointment to the twenty or so lashes adorning his chest and legs. Never above his nipples, however, his master is a careful man. The master comes back into the room and shuts the bathroom door, saying something about how disgusting the boy looks when he is crying. Minutes later, he comes out looking slightly more collected. The master pats the bed and stands while he waits for his slave to sit. The boy does, looking up at the man.   
“You've taken your punishment like a good boy, Sherlock.” The man says, carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. A glimmer of happiness colors the boy’s face as he leans into the soft touch.   
“Thank you father.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :D


End file.
